


Last Time That I Checc’d

by Lady_Blackwater



Series: Oakland's Very Own [3]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Black Character(s), Declarations Of Love, Domestic Fluff, Erik Killmonger Lives, Erik Killmonger Redemption, F/M, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Humor, Original Character-centric, Protective Erik, Relationship Discussions, Social Media, Soft Erik Killmonger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-02-28 20:04:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18763252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Blackwater/pseuds/Lady_Blackwater
Summary: Erik and Sienna go to her family reunion. Questions are asked. Patience is tested.





	Last Time That I Checc’d

**Author's Note:**

> Another Erik Killmonger fic no one asked for? You damn right. I love you, HalcyonSeasons.

“Ahh! Damn, girl,” Erik hisses, jerking away from Sienna’s grip.  “You can’t be gripping a nigga’s shit so hard with them talons.”

 

“Boy, I barely touched you,” she says with a roll of her baby doll brown eyes. “My nails not the problem. You just tender-headed as fuck. Sit back.”

 

Erik eases back in between Sienna’s plush thighs, resting his back against the couch. “Ain’t nobody tender-headed. You just rough,” he mumbles, focusing on the _Martin_ rerun playing on the mounted flat screen.

 

Erik loves when Sienna does his hair, because not only does she retwist them to perfection, but she always hooks him up with a cute style. He also can’t complain about being enveloped by his woman so domestically. She enjoys the intimacy of it all, but she just wishes he weren’t so fidgety.

 

Big-ass, mean-ass, scary-ass Killmonger is tender-headed. Who would’ve thought?

 

Sienna twists and braids with mild complaint on Erik’s part for another ten or so minutes, both laughing at numerous gags and jokes in the episode. His calloused fingers idly brush along her knee and shin as though to commit their feel to memory.

 

During a commercial break, Sienna’s phone begins to ring and vibrate from the coffee table. She glances up at it then nudges Erik lightly.

 

“Babe, hand me my phone, please.”

 

Erik reaches out and checks the ID. “Ooh, it’s Mama Vee!” he says excitedly.

 

“Answer it.”

 

Erik puts the call on speaker and lays the device on Sienna’s thigh. “Mama Vee!” he whoops.

 

Sienna’s mother’s voice fills the living room. “Hi, baby! How ya doin’, E?”

 

“We good over here, ma’am.”

 

“Hi, Mommy,” Sienna says, never losing focus from Erik’s hair. “How are you?”

 

“Well, you’d know how I was doing if you called your mama more,” she snides, making Erik boast out loud and Sienna roll her eyes.

 

“Oh, you don’t even call yo mama? Damn, you wrong,” Erik exclaims, smiling wide enough for his dimples to deepen.

 

“Boy, shut up,” she grumbles.

 

“Uh uh, don’t be mad me and Veronica cool.”

 

Sienna rolls her eyes another time. The only downside to having her man be so close with her mother is that they gang up on her. She’s grateful that Erik and her family get along considering Erik doesn’t have his much of his own around. Her mother calls him her baby. Her father, Mr. Vermillion, calls him the son he never had, and her grandmother calls him her favorite grandson. He’s basically been adopted into her family, which is all she’s ever truly wanted out of a boyfriend.

 

It annoys her nonetheless because said boyfriend is the apple of her immediate family’s eyes.

 

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Sienna apologizes with a pout. She definitely should call her mom more often. “I just been busy with the wigs and my clients and—”

 

“My baby a whole ass businesswoman, Mama Vee,” Erik interjects in Sienna’s defense. “You got me, though.”

 

Sienna’s mother laughs with an amused snort. “Lucky me,” she says. “So, what are my babies over there doing?”

 

“Just sitting here doing this man’s hair,” Sienna answers, starting a new dread. “What about you? Where’s Daddy?”

 

This opens the gateway for Veronica to tell them about her week at senior yoga, some spa she went to with Sienna’s aunts, Mr. Vermillion redoing the basement, and about how she wants to get another dog. Sienna starts off listening intently, but she gets distracted with splitting up Erik’s dreads in sections to start braiding, leaving just Veronica and him to converse.

 

“What else are you two getting into tonight?” Veronica asks, backshuffling noises filling up her background.

 

“When she finish my hair, we going to this little club event one of the homies is hosting downtown,” he answers, scrolling through his phone. As Sienna begins to braid, he relaxes into her touch despite how heavy handed she is. “Might pull out the Jordan Ones and let these fools know what I’m on.”

 

“Yeah, we finna look _good_ good,” Sienna agrees, dabbing oil onto Erik’s scalp.

 

Veronica sighs. “That sounds fun! I’mma let you guys go,” she says. “Oh, by the way, lemme not forget to ask—Sisi, are you two gonna be here on Friday or Saturday?”

 

Sienna pauses. “For?”

 

“Girlie, I know you ain’t forget about the family re—”

 

Like a bullet out of a gun, Sienna snatches up her phone and leaps off the couch to run down the hall and as far as she can from Erik. Her mother is still rambling on and on, but her own breath is too loud to hear her. Just as predicted, Erik’s following close behind with an expression mixed between perplexed, curious, and demanding for her when she faces him.

 

“—you already know Imma need you here at least a day early to fix the macaroni and cheese, and—”

 

“Mommy,” she says, dodging Erik’s grip for the phone and playing defense when he crowds behind her. “Mommy, can you just send me a text so I won’t forget?”

 

“How I know you won’t forget? We been planning this thing for months now and you actin’ like you don’t know nothing about it—”

 

Sienna yelps when Erik pinches her side and in the second it take for her knees to buckle, he snatches the phone from her and holds her back at arms length.

 

“Aye, Mama Vee, you said it’s Saturday, right?” he asks, pushing his hopping girlfriend away gently.

 

“Boy, gimme back my phone!” she groans with no luck because Erik is too strong for anybody’s good.

 

Veronica happily answers, “Yes, baby!”

 

“We’ll be there on Friday with any and everything you need, a’ight? I promise.”

 

“See, I knew you was good since the day I met you, Erik. I swear I love you!”

 

“I love you, too, Mama Vee,” he says, and he really means it. “Send _me_ a text. _I_ got you.”

 

“ _This_ nigga.” Sienna backs off and crosses her arms over her chest.

 

The two of them say their goodbyes and hang up, leaving just Sienna and Erik to stare at each other. His face says it all, but Sienna attempts to slip passed him as though she didn’t just get exposed.

 

“Let’s go finish your hair so we can eat before we leave. I want In-N-Out. You in the mood for animal fries? We—”

 

“Nah, lil’ girl, we not gon’ act like you ain’t acting real suspect right now.” Erik grips her waist and pulls her in, looking down at her with one eyebrow raised. “We keeping secrets now?”

 

“Well, it’s not so much a secret as it is just me not telling you about the family reunion and planning on not going,” she admits, hands on his chest to caress the bumps under his muscle shirt.

 

His eyes widen slightly before settling in a questionable squint. “You really thought you was gon’ get by without ya moms or pops grilling you about not showing up to _your_ family reunion hosted at _your_ house?”

 

Sienna thinks for a moment. “I ain’t think about it that deeply, E.”

 

“Clearly.”

 

“Don’t get smart,” she mumbles with a pout, pulling away from his grip to go back down the hall.

 

He follows, staring at her closely. “Why you ain’t say nothing?”

 

Sienna shrugs. “I just don’t wanna go.”

 

“Why? You love kicking back with your peoples.”

 

“No, nigga, _you_ love kicking back with my peoples,” she corrects him, plopping back into her spot on the coach. “Every time I bring your ass around, it’s always ‘can you hand your man my mixtape?’ or ‘loan me, like, fifty g’s. We know you got it being with that lil’ prince,’” she says in her best impression of her ain’t shit cousins and uncles. “Lord, and don’t even get me started on my Auntie Clarice and her lil’ stank ass daughters. They always got some slick shit to say, thinking they better than everyone ‘cus they mixed and skinny with green eyes and shit.”

 

Erik leans over the back of the couch, letting her rant. He listens intently, catching onto the smallest details even if his face doesn’t say he is. Even through all her frustrations, she elects to leave out how her aunts and grandmother will ask why she's gained weight if she’s not pregnant. That’s a lecture she’s _not_ in the mood to hear.

 

“I just don’t wanna go five hours up the way just to have them niggas in our business, you feel me?” she says, putting her head back to look up at him. “I just wanna enjoy being around my family without all the intrusive-ass questions. Like, yeah, okay, I’m dating an ex-terrorist turned Instagram thot that is Wakandan royalty, but that shouldn’t be the only thing them niggas gotta discuss! Like, damn, a bitch just sold a custom unit to one or two rap bitches and secured a whole ass bag, but fuck what Sienna got goin’ on,” she huffs aggressively, but it doesn’t match how gently she’s scratching Erik’s beard. “And before you say some’, I know it’s not your fault. The real ones who know me, who know _us_ , all that extra shit don’t matter to them, but when it’s _all_ them niggas?” She shakes her head. “Just too much.”

 

Erik nods in agreement, sympathetically kissing her forehead with a grunt and then standing to cage her between his arms. “You know you don’t owe them nothing. You know they only in your business and hating ‘cus they don’t got shit going on with they lives.”

 

Sienna smiles up at him but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I ain’t mean to keep it from you. It’s not like I’m ashamed of you or some shit. I just don’t wanna deal with it.”

 

Erik nods again, understanding. “You talking to a nigga who can barely stand his own cousins and there’s only two of them. Trust when I say I get it.”

 

Sienna giggles. “I’d rather hang out with T’Challa and Shuri before I hang out with any of those niggas.”

 

“You know we don’t have to entertain that shit,” he reminds her, kissing her forehead again. “If anybody try us, I’m lighting the whole block up. On everything.”

 

“Nigga, you gon’ shoot up my mama house?”

 

“If it must be done.”

 

She mushes his face away. “Boy, get the fuck—”

  
  
  


Sienna finishes Erik’s hair within the hour and takes a shower while Erik gets her In-N-Out. After eating, she does her makeup and chooses a cherry red, bone straight center part unit to match Erik’s shoes. Erik, for once, isn’t hosting this particular event, so he’s in no rush and doesn’t complain when it takes Sienna forty five minutes to find an outfit. He’s been lounging on the bed in his light wash ripped jeans, Jordans, black t-shirt, and metallic bomber jacket for the better part of an hour, scrolling through Instagram.

 

She opts for a simple black bodycon dress that makes her already huge ass poke out and black suede booties that will have her feet screaming by the time they get home. To top her look off, Erik puts his personalized golden jaguar chain around her neck, so that every knows exactly who she’s with.

 

“Damn, nigga,” she mumbles to herself as he’s doing a last minute check in the hallway mirror, admiring the bold and white [KILLMONGER](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DWXaAXXVQAA6_Lq?format=jpg&name=medium) embroidered on the back of his jacket. “Who you leaving the house looking so fine for?”

 

He snickers, but doesn’t look away from his reflection.

 

It doesn’t make any sense as to why he’s as fine as he is.

 

Sienna sighs happily and maneuvers him around so that his back is facing the mirror. He’s so focused on fixing his watch that he doesn’t react and instead just stands how she wants him to. She then poses in a way behind him so that his jewelry and her makeup can be seen. Whipping out her phone, she snaps a few dozen pictures with multiple facial expressions.

 

The whole ride over to the event, she edits her favorite two of the set of pictures on VSCO while he drives and mumble raps along to one of the many trap songs on his playlist. He looks unenthused when they arrive since he hates clubs, but he’s here as a favor to one of his industry friends promoting some artist’s mixtape. After being with Erik for a while, having attended what feels like thousands of events like this, Sienna eventually stopped asking for details.

 

The club is dark, loud, and full of bullshit as most are, and judging by the look on Erik’s face when the bouncer lets them in, he’s over it already. Sienna squeezes his hand in hers as they work their way through the thick crowd of jumping, dancing hyperactive bodies. On the way to the VIP section reserved for them, Erik is recognized by any and everybody and he greets each person with the same energy.

 

Men don’t say much to Sienna because they know that addressing Erik “Killmonger” Steven’s girl, especially while he’s around, is a huge no-no. The fear and respect that comes with being attached to a man with Erik’s status and clout in this city is rewarding when the time comes and irritating when groupies of every gender think they can get what she has.

 

She doesn’t miss how women look at him, and she’s an idiot if she truly thinks one of them haven’t tried it with him. She trusts Erik to not entertain it, but it annoys her nonetheless.

 

Once they climb the stairs into the VIP section overlooking the club, Erik is greeted by the host, Q, with a dap and a smile.

 

“Glad you could make it!” he says and nods to Sienna politely. “Sienna, how you?”

 

She’s only ever met this short, fake-ass Kevin Hart looking nigga twice in her entire life, but she smiles as though they’ve known each other forever. “Good. Cute lil’ setup you got,” she says, gesturing to the remainder of the section filled with Instagram models, bottle service, “up and coming” artists, and various other industry people that stopped impressing her a long time ago.

 

Q, being the overly excited nigga he is, makes a big deal out of showing Erik the section and boasting about the artist he’s promoting. Sienna takes a seat on a purple velvet loveseat, looking up from her phone every once in a while to take in her surroundings. Just about nobody—aside from some models who make nice conversation because they’re bored—acknowledges her as if she’s got _My Nigga is a Killer so Don’t Talk to Me_ written on her forehead. She’s fine with that, being the naturally shy woman she is, so she patiently sips the Henny and apple juice mixture that Erik brought her as he conducts business of the promoting nature, bopping in her seat to the loud music.

 

As the night goes on, she loosens up with the help of alcohol and takes videos and pictures to post on her social media. All in all, she’s having an okay time, but she knows she’s getting too old to still be going to clubs like this. The highlight of her time so far has been the female exotic dancers that she takes much joy in raining dollar bills on. She’s almost too distracted by the fattest ass she’s seen in a g-string in her whole life to take notice of the oompa-loompa built shorty moving in too close to Erik in her peripherals. She’s speaking to him rather excitedly, or rather to the side of his face because he hasn’t looked down at her once. Sienna’s eyes squint and roll when the girl puts her hand out to pat Erik’s arm.

 

She must be new here.

 

Tipsy and antsy, Sienna gets up from the couch to approach the balcony where Erik and his friends have been standing all night. Upon closer examination, Sienna takes in the girl’s unblended leave-out, ashy elbows, and undone toes slipping out an inch from her open-toed shoes. Maybe it’s her mind playing tricks on her and that’s what she wants to see, but it doesn’t stop Sienna from possessively wrapping an arm around Erik’s waist.

 

The girl is still going on and on about something, but Sienna doesn’t care what she has to say as she pulls Erik away and interlocks the fingers, effectively ending their conversation. Erik follows compliantly, smirking to himself when he leans down to whisper into Sienna’s ear.

 

“That was Q’s artist, by the way,” he tells her. “She was telling me about her mixtape.”

 

“She don’t gotta touch up on you and stand that close to do all that,” she sneers, leading him to the other side of the section.

 

“You jealous?” he asks teasingly, playing with the heavy, diamond encrusted jaguar charm laying around her neck.

 

“Of who? Discount Mariah Lynn?”

 

Erik laughs and dips down low to peck her cheek. “Another hour of showing face and we can leave, a’ight, Princess?”

 

She nods and downs the remainder of her vodka and cranberry. “We getting too old for this shit.”

 

“Who you telling?”

  
  


To make the time go by faster, Sienna downs more drinks than she means to. Erik cuts her off after she nearly falls down the stairs and keeps a very close eye on her, though she insists she’s not even drunk. And no, she’s not, but she’s not totally _there_ either. She gets horny and touch-heavy when she drinks which means keeping her hands to herself is impossible. Erik doesn’t mind it—in fact, he especially loves when she hungrily tongues him down without a fuck to be given while his hands sit firmly on her backside.

 

Suddenly every song that comes on is her favorite, her feet don’t hurt, and she’s everyone’s best friend. She even loosens up enough to talk to the Discount Mariah Lynn whose name Sienna forgets the second she says it.

 

The club closes at three in the morning, but Erik and Sienna leave before then to get in on late night carry-out before heading home. They strip down to sweats to eat on the bed with a documentary playing on the television.

 

“ _TheShadeRoom_ quick as fuck,” Erik comments and hands his phone over to Sienna. In the middle of chomping down on a flat Buffalo wing, she takes the device and looks at the post.

 

There are blurry snapshots from the event as well as HD photo ops of the Discount Mariah Lynn and other industry people. There are only two pictures of her and Erik—one of them when they were standing on the balcony of VIP with matching annoyed expressions and another from when she was grinding on him, bent over with her tongue out.

 

They acknowledge them in the caption is as “ _Oakland’s Very Own, Erik ‘Killmonger’ and hairstylist and makeup artist girlfriend, Sienna Vermillion,”_ which she appreciates. Seeing herself on this account will never cease to amaze her. Sometimes, she truly underestimates just how popular her boyfriend is. She grins.

 

“We cute,” she says, not even bothering to scroll through the comments because she could guess the majority of them are backhanded compliments from a bunch of Killmonger fangirls. “I don’t even know why you still follow them when they messy as fuck.”

 

Erik shrugs, biting into a chicken wing. “Other people’s mess be entertaining as fuck,” he says with a full mouth.

  


The following day, in the middle of coloring a custom unit for a client, she takes a moment to scroll through her photos. Coming across the ones she took of her and Erik, she posts them to her personal Instagram account and tags him.

 

_Last time that I checc’d, it was his chain on my neck 💙_

  
  


Friday morning starts with Erik on the phone with Sienna’s mom as he packs an overnight bag for the weekend. He’s already dressed with his face washed, teeth brushed, and car keys in hand.

 

“So, you just wasn’t gon’ wake me?” Sienna snaps the second she sees him up.

 

“You was gon’ have an attitude if I did,” he tells her simply. “And you got one now ‘cus I didn’t,” he continues, and it’s not until he said it does she realize she’s frowning. “So, where that leave us?”

 

“Shut up,” she says between a yawn, stretching her body out like a cat until her legs start shaking. “Time is it?”

 

Erik glances at his watch. “Six.”

 

“The fuck we up so early for?”

 

“You act like yo ass ain’t gon’ fall asleep in the car anyway. Getcho goofy ass up and get ready.”

 

Sienna makes a show of getting even more comfortable between the silk sheets. “I know this nigga don’t think he telling me what to—”

 

Sienna screams hoarsely as she’s suddenly dragged by her ankle out of the bed and tossed over Erik’s shoulder. Unbalanced and discombobulated, she holds onto his t-shirt for dear life as he stalks over to the attached bathroom.

 

“Nigga, put me down!” she growls, voice clogged with sleep.

 

“When I tell you to do something, I mean that shit.” To emphasize his point, he spanks one of her exposed ass cheeks, sending shivers down her legs.

 

She bites back a moan and lets herself relax when she’s certain he won’t drop her. “Fuck you smacking my shit so hard for?” she pretends to complain.

 

“This shit fat as fuck.”

 

“By that logic,” she grunts and whacks the plump muscle of his ass right back. “You built like Rihanna, witcho thick ass.”

 

“Aye, smack my ass again and I’m dropping you.”

 

“I dare you.”

 

Erik stops walking. “Say I won’t.”

 

“You won’t,” she says and smacks his ass again because she’s nothing if not defiant.

 

“Bet.”

 

True to his word, he drops her but she lands right on the plush cushion of her velvet closet bench. She winces upon impact and nudges him away from her.

 

“You so rough,” she whines, rubbing her buttcheeks soothingly.

 

“You act like I ain’t warn you. Get dressed. I already packed your bag.”

 

“How considerate of you,” she says sarcastically, stripping from her oversized sweatshirt in favor of actual clothes.

  
  


They’re on the road to Woodland Hills by seven thirty, and it would’ve been sooner if Sienna didn’t take longer than necessary to choose a wig—only to decide she was just going to wear her natural hair out.

 

Sienna and Erik have taken the five hour drive between Oakland and Woodland Hills many times before when they first began dating. Day trips turned into weekends that turned into sometimes a month together for about a year until Sienna took a very big leap and moved in with him per his request. Her family was less than happy that she packed up and essentially moved her whole life for someone she’s only known for a year, but it worked out perfectly. She loves Oakland even though Erik can’t say he’s a fan of Los Angeles.

 

Erik drives with one hand on the wheel with his other elbow resting on the center console and the hand gripping Sienna’s thigh like always. Just as he said, she falls asleep only twenty minutes into the ride even with his obnoxious music playing and awakes when they stop at a gas station.  

 

“How long we got?” she asks when he finishes pumping gas and hops back into the driver’s seat.

 

“Like, two hours.”

 

“Lemme drive!”

 

He gives her a look behind his sunglasses. “Nah.”

 

“Why?”

 

He scoffs condescendingly.

 

Sienna crosses her arms with an annoyed huff. “Oh, ‘cus I’m a woman I can’t drive?”

 

“You backed into a fire hydrant not even two weeks ago,” he reminds her and puts the car in drive. “I got this.”

 

To entertain herself the rest of the way, Sienna plays deejay and puts on her Spotify playlist. Erik makes it through about twenty minutes of her exaggerated bopping and playing like she’s in a Megan Thee Stallion music video before he says anything.

 

“You always listening to that ratchet shit.”

 

“If I put on Lana Del Rey, you gon’ say I’m always listening to some sad shit,” she points out.

 

“Who?”

 

“Lana Del— ya know what, nevermind. You like my music on the low low. I seen you get hype whenever ‘Act Up’ come on. You a whole City Boy.”

  
  


The Vermillion household is a modernized castle upon a hill hidden in a miniature jungle of palm trees and bushes. Her parents’ cars sit in the driveway where Sienna’s father, Jeffrey Vermillion, is hosing down his truck. Upon seeing him, Sienna’s eyes get wide with excitement.

 

She hops out the car after Erik parallel parks, and rushes over to him with a giddy smile. “Daddy!” she squeals with open arms. It’s been a while since she’s seen him.

 

Mr. Vermillion sets the hose on the hood of his truck and wipes his forehead of sweat with the hem of his wife beater. “Princess!” he greets with a gruff, holding her close to his bulky, 6’3 frame. “Look atchu, just grown as hell, looking like yo damnass mama.”

 

Sienna pulls away and gets on her toes to place a wet kiss to his stubbly cheek. “I missed you, too, Daddy.”

 

“Yeah, a’ight, miss me so much you can’t even call.”

 

Sienna ducks her head in embarrassment. “Mommy already grilled me. Please don’t start.”

 

“Yeah, she foul, huh, Mr. V?” Erik joins in, coming around Sienna to approach her father. “How you doing, sir?”

 

The biggest smile flashes over Mr. Vermillion’s face when he sees Erik. “Ah, shit, _there’s my boy_!” he cheers, nudging Sienna out of the way to hug and clap the man on his back. “How you doin,’ young blood?”

 

Sienna crosses her arms frustratedly even though it makes her heart flutter to see the two most important men in her life be this close. _Yeah_ , butterflies do flutter around in her pudgy stomach when she sees Erik smile so hard his dimples deepen, but _shit_.

 

Before they can get too deep into a conversation about god knows what, Sienna jerks her thumb towards the house. “Where’s Mommy?”

 

“Her and ya aunties in the kitchen, but they asses already drunk.”

 

Sienna makes her way to the front door. “They wouldn’t be them if they weren’t.”

 

Mrs. Vermillion and her sisters, Victoria and Vivian, sit at the round marble table in the Grecian-themed kitchen, sipping wine and cackling too loud for them to hear Sienna enter the kitchen. Sienna’s favorite cousin, MiKayla bounces her one-year-old daughter, Cheyenne, on her wide set hips.

 

She’s the first to see Sienna and they run to each other like the giddy young girls they used to be, greeting each other with a mix of “bitch, this!” and “bitch, that!”

 

“Bitch, look how long your hair is now!” MiKayla exclaims, running her fingers through Sienna’s shoulder-length, thick lion’s mane blowout. “Let ‘em know, inches!”

 

“Okay, come through, melanin!” Sienna admires her cousins smooth dark skin. “My bitch lookin’ all glowy!”

 

“Look who finally made her way down to little ol’ L.A,” Mrs. Vermillion jokes and arches her eyebrow.

 

Sienna turns, wraps her arms around her mother’s neck in a quick embrace, and then kisses her cheek. “Daddy already got into it. I get it. I need to visit home more often. Point made.”

 

“Mhm, girlie, we barely recognized you when you came through that door.” Vivian, the eldest of the three of them, pretends to put her nose up at Sienna, but her huge smile can’t be hidden.

 

“Hi, Auntie Viv.” Sienna kisses her cheek too. “Nice to see you, too. Auntie Tori, you gon’ let them gang up on your favorite niece?”

 

Victoria, MiKayla’s mother, rolls her huge eyes with a mix of mock annoyance and genuine happiness to see Sienna. “Oh, now you my niece?”

 

She snorts and hides her face behind her hands. “I’m here now, okay? Ya got me for the whole weekend,” she promises, going back to the other side of the kitchen to approach MiKayla.

 

“Hey, baby girl!” Sienna squeals in her softest baby voice, holding her hands out to her gurgling and excited infant cousin.

 

MiKayla grins and hands her daughter over gently. “She been waiting on her Aunt Sisi all day.”  
  
“Ah, my wittle Cheyenne! You was waiting on me? You missed your Auntie, cousin? That’s my baby! That’s my baby girl! Ahhhh, you so fat fat! Please don’t ever, never grow up!” Sienna coos, raising Cheyenne above her head and shaking her lightly, smiling just as widely up at the toothless little girl. “You so precious, ain’t you? Ain’t you?”  
  
“When you gonna have one of your own?” Vivian asks out of nowhere, sipping her red wine. MiKayla groans on Sienna’s behalf and resists rolling her eyes.  
  
Sienna eyes her aunt, smiling fading to a scowl. “I couldn’t even get started on boiling the macaroni before we start in on that?” she snaps with her hip jutted out and looks to her mother for backup.  
  
Mrs. Vermillion nods in agreement and sips her wine too. “C’mon, Viv. Leave my baby alone with all them questions.”  
  
“We just wanna know, Ronnie,” Victoria chimes in, brushing off Sienna’s mom and leaning forward to rest a loving hand on Sienna’s arm. “We don’t mean nothing by it, baby. We just wanna know when we getting some more little nieces and nephews.”  
  
Sienna sighs and uses Cheyenne’s bib to wipe drool from the baby’s mouth. It’s easier to just say “soon” instead of confessing she doesn’t plan on having kids right now.

 

“I don’t know,” she says with a shrug and begins bouncing her cousin on her hip. “I ain’t thinking about kids right now.”

 

“Is Erik?” Viv presses.

 

Sienna almost laughs. “Uh, we ain’t talk about it.”

 

That’s a lie. The closest they’ve gotten to that conversation was one time after the club when Erik was drunk off Hennessy, on round one thousand of blowing Sienna’s back out when he swore he was gonna “turn her pussy into a daycare.”

 

It doesn’t count, but it’s _something_.

 

Sienna knows she will, especially with Erik, but just not… _now_.

 

“Y’all been together a whole three years, and y’all haven’t had _one_ conversation about it?” Viv can’t believe it. “The nigga pushing forty.”

  
“Oh, god, Auntie Viv,” Sienna whines and shakes her head when Cheyenne’s tiny fingers tug at her roots. “He only turned _thirty_ a few months ago. We still got time. We just enjoying each other right now. Ain’t no rush.”

 

“Well, shit, okay, fine.” Viv seems to accept that and picks her glass up again. “Y’all enjoying each other, but you can be married and do that, y’all know that right?”

 

Everyone in the room looks at her, awaiting an answer. She shrugs and meets nobody’s eyes.  “We ain’t talk about it.”

 

That’s also a lie. The closest they’ve gotten to that conversation was when Sienna woke up one morning to Erik cooking breakfast and commented jokingly about how he’s a “good little househusband.”

 

Again, it doesn't count, but it’s _something_.

 

“You better than me,” Victoria comments now, sloshing her drink around in her glass. “Three years, and we ain’t even talk about it? That nigga would’ve had to die.”

 

Mrs. Vermillion cuts in before Sienna’s face can say what she’s feeling. “Y’all cackling-ass hens find yourself a rich man first and then we’ll talk about marriage.”

 

“Ah, be real, Ronnie!” Victoria says, crossing her legs. “Be very real. You don’t feel no way about Sisi being with this man for this long with no ring or no baby?”

 

MiKayla shakes her head and leans on the counter. “Mama, c’mon, it ain’t how it used to be. You know she got other things going on for herself.” She nudges Sienna’s shoulder. “It’ll happen for them when it happens.”

 

Sienna nods. “Yes, thank you! Exactly! Now if we could all just drop it—”

 

“Okay, we’ll drop it, baby. Just one more question, and I’m being very real.” Vivian stares her niece down. “It doesn’t bother you in the slightest that there’s never been any talk of you two’s future?”

 

Sienna has to think about it. Cheyenne babbles and sings in her ear.

 

They’ve definitely talked about a future together, but it all involved shit like Sienna launching her own makeup line, Erik teaching new recreational classes at the Outreach Center, or getting a dog. She may be getting too old for the nightlife, but she doesn’t want to settle because she has kids.

 

“No,” she says simply, shaking her head again. The room goes silent again aside from Cheyenne making unintelligible noises.

 

“You think he’s cheating on you?” Victoria blurts out, earning incredulous looks from the rest of them.

 

“Mama!” MiKayla exclaims.

 

“What? It’s a valid question!” she defends, but Sienna’s mother shakes her head.

 

“Nah, that’s not even in question. That boy know better,” Veronica says, frowning at the suggestion. “He know he looking to get jumped if he is, Killmonger be damned.”

 

“Yeah, Mama, he crazy, _not_ stupid,” MiKayla adds. “Sisi would kill his ass.”

 

“And he knows she would,” Mrs. Vermillion agrees.

 

“Well, excuse me!” Victoria scoffs. “I was just thinking of reasons stopping him from putting a rock on my favorite niece’s finger!”

 

In their time together, Erik has showered Sienna in so many gifts that some rock on a wedding band would just be underwhelming. “Auntie Tori, there’s other ways of showing someone you love them, and he doesn’t have to give me a ring or a baby to show he does,” Sienna insists. She bats her eyelashes at Cheyenne. “Does he, fat fat?”

 

“Well, you love him, right?” she persists.

 

Vivian makes a noise of exaggerated annoyance as if to say _girl, please._ “Girlie done moved all the way up to Oakland for his ass. Whatchu think?”

 

“What that gotta do with anything? You seen his fine ass! I move to the Congo if he wanted me to!”

 

Sienna can’t believe this is the craziness she’s walked into. All she can do is hide her frustrations behind a laugh. “Y’all are something else,” she concludes and kisses Cheyenne’s chubby cheek before handing her back over to MiKayla to be fed.

 

As though he was summoned, Erik enters the house and follows the voices of the Vermillion women into the kitchen. They greet him with hugs, kisses, and compliments because they love the fuck out of him. He’s everything they want for themselves—a rich hood nigga.

 

He greets everyone with that huge dimpled smile and a kiss on the cheek, and they go on and on about how as good he smells or how handsome he is. Relief washes over Sienna when the attention is finally off of her because none of them are bold enough to ask him their questions.

 

“So, Mr. Stevens,” Vivian begins just as she had before. “When you gonna put a ring on my niece finger and turn her into a princess?”

 

Or maybe they are.

 

MiKayla and Mrs. Vermillion roll their eyes and shoot them at Vivian while Sienna’s cheeks burn hot with her head ducked down to avoid being seen. Victoria drinks her wine in solidarity.

 

“Viv, shut the hell up about all that! Y’all interrogating them more than the damn police,” Sienna mom goes on, exasperated. “All up in someone else business ‘cus you ain’t got none. E, baby, you don't pay these two no mind. They drunk.”

 

Luckily, Erik is smooth under pressure. He wraps a protective arm over Sienna’s shoulder and pulls her in for a kiss on her temple.

 

“I’m waiting to make her a queen instead,” he says. “Everyone already know she wifey. Anybody else questioning just ain’t looking hard enough.”

 

And with that, they all lift their eyebrows in shock. Although corny, it’s a good answer nobody expected. The look on his face is begging for someone to test him, but it never comes.

 

Just as quickly as the discussion began, it ends and they move onto something else.

  
  
  


Erik and Sienna go grocery shopping in the afternoon, and she can’t stop thinking about what he said.

 

She’s wifey now. Or rather that’s what he said to get her aunts to shut up.

 

She smiles to herself at the possibility and squeezes his fingers tight in hers as they walk the aisles.

  
  
  


That evening, Sienna, MiKayla, Mrs. Vermillion, and the aunts start food prepping for the following day. They’re all very drunk and blasting oldies that Mr. Vermillion complains about all the way from the den with Erik.

  


When night comes, Erik and Sienna retreat to her old bedroom that looks more like an apartment than just a bedroom.

 

“I be wondering why you so spoiled, then I remember you grew up in this,” he says, gesturing to her gigantic room and elaborate furniture as he lays back on the California king bed.

 

Sienna enters the room from the attached bathroom, toothbrush going a mile a minute in her mouth. “I’m not spoiled,” she corrects him. “I’m just an only child.”

 

“Spoiled,” he repeats.

 

Sienna rolls her eyes and goes back into the bathroom to spit into the porcelain sink. When she comes up, Erik is standing behind her and they share a look in the mirror. His gaze is unrelenting and focused as though he’s concentrating on reading her mind.

 

“Why you staring at me?” she wonders, wiping her mouth.

 

“What, I can’t look at you?”

 

She moves past him to saunter into the bedroom. “You just staring extra hard.”

 

“I like the view.”

 

“Corny-ass nigga,” she mutters and shuffles through her overnight bag for her hair care products. She still feels his intense eyes on her, so she turns away to avoid him seeing just how flushed she is.

  


Later on that night, Sienna is wide awake, staring up into the darkness in contemplation. Despite how wide the bed is, Erik is laid right up on her like the gigantic baby he is, snoring loud as hell into her armpit.

 

Before moving in together, they spent many a nights in this bedroom talking, laid up, making love, or just being goofy. Sienna used to feel insecure about bringing her grown-ass boyfriend back to her parents’ house regardless of how big it is, but now it only feels natural for him to be here with her.

 

Her eyes avert down to the sleeping man.

 

She watches him for a few minutes before his snoring stutters and stops all together. “Now you the one staring,” he mutters, rubbing on her thighs.

 

“How you know?” she says amazed.

 

He tuts as if the question annoys him. “Why you up?”

 

“Just thinking.”

 

He hums, hands settling around her waist. She looks back up at the ceiling, scratching his beard with her long nails.

 

“Baby?”

 

He doesn’t say anything, but he squeezes her hips.

“You not tripping over me not wanting kids right now, are you?”

 

Erik lifts his head to raise a suspicious eyebrow. “What I tell you about letting your family get in your head?”

 

“Just answer the question, please,” she pleads softly.

 

Caught off guard, Erik puts his head back on her chest and shrugs. “I’m boolin’. We ain't in no rush.”

 

Sienna considers that. At least they’re on the same page with that. “What if I don’t never want kids?”

 

Erik doesn’t say anything at first and pecks the space between her breasts. “I… don’t know.”

 

That’s his way of saying he hasn’t thought about it either.

 

“But you do want kids one day, right?” she questions, feeling like an idiot for only now mentioning this to him after three whole years together.

 

“It’s whatever you want.”

 

“Nah, but I’m asking ‘bout what _you_ want.”

 

Erik lifts his head to settle it on the pillow beside Sienna. “I want us to be good. Babies or no babies, it don’t matter,” he whispers, kissing her temple. “Real talk, it’d be cool or whatever to have a lil’ nigga who look smack like us runnin’ around, but that’ll be whenever.”

 

This nigga pushing forty, and while she does eventually want to make a family with his old ass, she doesn’t want to now.

 

Who knows if he’ll even stick around until she does?

 

The sudden urge to cry overtakes her, but she can’t figure out why. She turns over with her back to him so he won’t see the tears roll down her face.

  
  


The following morning, Sienna awakes to an empty bed and familial noises coming from downstairs. She crawls out of bed to glance out the window and into the backyard, taking note that more of her family have already begun showing up. She assumes Erik is already involved in whatever tasks Mrs. Vermillion needs done.

 

She does her regular morning routine with her music loud as it can go then moves onto her hair. The front is in two space buns with swirling edges, leaving the rest of her blow out as a thick, dark wave down her back. Instead of a heavy makeup look, she settles with tinted moisturizer, clear gloss, and falsies that liven up her eyes.

 

Erik packed the most basic of outfits, so she goes through her closet to see what she left of her last visit here. Several outfit changes later, Sienna keeps it comfortable in a pair of grey shorts and a white bodysuit.

 

The house is a lot more busy and full when she descends the second level, and she can barely make it to the kitchen without running into an auntie, uncle, or cousin. It’s only noon and black people are always late, so she can’t figure out why all these people are here so early.

 

Without having to be told, she begins cooking.

  
  


Sienna spends more time that she thinks is necessary in the kitchen, but if it keeps her away from her inquisitive aunties and free loading uncles, she’s fine with it. MiKayla and some of Sienna’s other aunts join in on cooking, talking shit, and drinking as they do.

 

As most family reunions go, there’s nameless kids running around to which someone’s grandmother threatens to “beat they little black asses if they don’t sit down somewhere.” Uncles and fathers too old to be hooping play basketball with the young men and get agitated when they lose while others play spades and gamble. Mr. Vermillion is manning the grill while Mrs. Vermillion brings out entire platters of food to the backyard. One of Sienna’s delusional uncles is relieved of deejay duties after he tries to play his son’s wack mixtape. The younger kids have taken solace in flipping into the pool and chasing someone’s dog around the backyard.

 

All in all, it’s a fun time even if Sienna barely recognizes anyone. She’s enjoying herself in the air conditioned house, watching her man run circles around her poor uncles on the basketball court.

 

“Sisi! Mickey! Ya Aunt Clarice is here!” Sienna’s mother shouts into the house from the sliding glass patio door.

 

And just like that, her fun is gone. MiKayla and Sienna side eye each other and link arms to walk out into the crowded yet spacious backyard.

 

Aunt Clarice doesn’t like the family, and the family doesn’t like Aunt Clarice. She thinks she’s better than the rest of them because she bagged herself a white man, but the gag is said white man dipped when the twins were born.

 

But she always neglects to add that part when talking about how beautiful her light skin daughters are.

 

Their names are Angel and Harmony, which is pretentious in its own right. To be honest, no one can tell them apart, but no one cares to ask because they’re just as uppity as their mother.

 

“Hello, nieces!” Aunt Clarice exclaims upon seeing Sienna and MiKayla. She’s dressed far too fancy for a family reunion cookout.

 

“Hi,” they uncomfortably chime together.

 

“Cute lil’ something y’all got goin’ on,” she says condescendingly as she scans the backyard with a curl in her lip. “Where’s everybody else?”

 

Mrs. Vermillion fakes a welcome smile at her husband’s sister and points to the house. “We finishing up cooking for now. Viv was about to get some margaritas going if you wanted one.”

 

“Oh, lawd, yes! Lemme get inside out of this hot-ass heat before I leave here looking like Bernie Mac.”

 

Sienna and MiKayla side eye each other again and then Mrs. Vermillion as Clarice shuffles into the house with her heels clicking against the concrete of the wooden deck with Angel and Harmony following close behind.

 

“Y’all coming?” Mrs. Vermillion asks the two of them jokingly, holding the sliding door open.

  
  


Sienna and MiKayla post up with lawn chairs and wine coolers to watch the men play basketball. Sienna bounces a sleeping Cheyenne in her lap as she cheers on Erik and giggles with MiKayla, completely ignoring the way Angel and Harmony are eyeing him just a few feet away from her.

 

“Lemme go put her in the crib.” MiKayla reaches for her daughter and Sienna passes her over. “I’ll be back.”

 

“Okay,” she says, fanning herself. “Get me a water while you in there, too!”

 

Sienna scrolls through her phone, checking her appearance in the camera to assure she’s not sweating as much as she feels like she is. In the midst of doing so, Angel and Harmony begin snickering.

 

“Who the fuck is that nigga anyway? Looking like Michael B. Jordan and shit,” one of them says, not even bothering to be quiet about it. “He ain’t no cousin.”

 

Sienna adjusts her sunglasses and leans sideways just enough to hear them.

 

“Bitch, you know who that is,” the other answers. “That’s Sisi’s nigga.”

 

There’s a pause and another round of snickers.

 

“You late as fuck. They been together damn near forever, like, three years or some shit,” she informs her. “I know you seen they was all up on each other on _Shade Room_ a few days ago. He a whole prince. You ain’t know?”

 

“Nah, how her fatass get _him_?”

 

Sienna grimaces and pretends to not listen even if her cousin’s ignorance is worth slapping her for.

 

“Girl, I don’t even know.”

 

“How they been together so long and they not married?”

 

“Who the fuck knows,” the other answers. “I do know he probably got one or two bitches and a baby on the side, and he keeping ol’ girl on a leash. Not like she’ll leave him.”

 

“Shit, maybe I could try and get me a piece of him. Three years and no ring? He ain’t about her.”

 

Sienna’s skin begins to run hot from more than just the sun.

 

“I heard about him. Good luck with that, bitch, ‘cus he mean as fuck and don’t like nobody but her fatass.”

 

“Sure don’t,” Sienna mutters to herself.

 

“Can’t hurt to try,” Thot Twin giggles. _The nerve of some bitches..._

 

“Yes, it could,” Sienna continues.

 

The two of them quiet down when they notice Erik jogging off the court in their direction. They stare in amazement like he’s the last nigga they’ll ever see as he goes right past them and approaches Sienna.

 

“Enjoying the show?” he starts with that huge, dimpled smile showing off his gold caps.

 

“This must be what Ayesha Curry feels like,” Sienna jokes, wiping his sweaty forehead with the cool napkin wrapped around her wine cooler. “You see them skinny bitches over there?” she asks, subtly nodding over to them.

 

Erik inconspicuously glances their way and then to the ground. “Yeah. Why?”

 

“They Clarice’s little stank-ass daughters I was telling you about. They been getting on my last nerve, and I’m about two seconds from body slamming them bitches into the pool, so if I get arrested tonight you know why.”

 

“Yeah, they was staring so hard at a nigga I thought I owed they asses money.”

 

Sienna actually laughs at that. “Yeah, they had a lot to say, too.”

 

“Aye, young blood!” an uncle yells from the other side of the court. “Getcho ass on and let’s finish this game!”

 

Erik sneers and waves him off. “I’ll be a second, old head!”

 

Sienna smirks up at him. “Go easy on him, baby.”

 

“Yeah, a’ight,” he mumbles and begins to jog back onto the court before turning on his heels to put his tongue halfway down Sienna’s throat and land a loud slap on her ass.

 

“Boy, getcha lil’ freak nasty ass off my cousin!” MiKayla exclaims, plopping back into the lawn chair.

 

“My bad.” He pecks her forehead and grips her backside harder. Sienna reluctantly pulls away from him and hits his shoulder playfully before he returns to the court.

 

“That boy nasty,” MiKayla tsks, handing Sienna a cold bottled water.

 

Proud and appreciative, Sienna doesn’t hide how openly she checks for Angel and Harmony's sour expressions having just seen how “ain’t about her” Erik really is.

  
  


Later on in the day, Sienna, her cousins, her mother, and her aunt make themselves comfortable on the deck to relax in the shade. Sienna is finishing up telling MiKayla a story when Erik comes out of the house, showered with his athletic gear swapped out for jeans and a tank top.

 

He looks finer than he ever be allowed to, glowing like he comes straight from the sun. Sienna bites her bottom lip; this nigga is really _all_ _hers_.

 

“E, baby, why don’t you sit down and have something to eat?” Mrs. Vermillion suggests, pointing to the array of food spread out on the picnic tables.

 

He nods in agreement, scratching the back of his neck.  “Yeah, I think I will.”

 

“Sisi, go ‘head and fix him a plate,” Vivian instructs.

 

Sienna has no problem putting together a plate for Erik, but considering she spent majority of the day cooking and baking, the last thing she wants to do is look at that food. The resistance must show clear on her face because one of Clarice’s twins speaks up.

 

“I can fix your plate if Sisi too tired,” she suggests and it gets multiple heads turning.

 

 _The nerve of this bitch…_ Yeah, she’s tired but not so much that she won’t go upside this bitch head…

 

The cuss-out of a lifetime sits at the tip of Sienna’s tongue, but Erik has his hand in hers to lift her to her feet before she can get a word out.

 

“Nah, _we_ got it,” he interjects, making a point to mean mug either Angel or Harmony in that intimidating way that wishes she would challenge him. “Let’s go, Princess.”

 

Sienna looks back at her astonished family with a smirk.

  
  


Sienna knows something is up when MiKayla whispers something to the cousin deejaying, and “Rock The Boat” by Aaliyah begins playing across the lawn.

 

“Oh no,” she whispers to herself when MiKayla comes skipping over to the deck with the goofiest grin on her face. “No, no, no…”

 

“Aw, remember that lil’ dance y’all made up for this song, baby?” Mrs. Vermillion reminds Sienna, as if the memory of her and her cousins at eight years old making up choreography while the visually appealing music video played on the humpback television isn’t fresh in her mind the second she hears the first beat.

 

“Yeah, Mommy. I remember.”

 

“I wanna see,” Erik chimes in with a smirk.

 

“No, it’s really not—“

 

“Oh, c’mon, baby! Show him!”

 

Sienna shakes her head, refusing to get up from her spot on the deck stairs. “Mommy!” she whines but her mother tightens her lips.

 

“Do the damn dance,” she says through gritted teeth, and Sienna can’t say no even if she wants.

 

“I don’t even remember the moves, but okay.”

 

That’s a lie.

 

The second she joins MiKayla and her other cousins around the pool, the choreography comes back with muscle memory. Without even thinking about it, they body roll, shake their hips, snap, swing their arms, and two-step in sync as though they’re dressed in white and dancing on a yacht. Any embarrassment fades as soon as Sienna falls into the groove of the song.

 

None of them have any business singing this song let alone dancing to it at the age they were when it came out, but nothing says cousins like making up dances together.

 

Mrs. Vermillion has her phone out recording the dance in the most “you’re doing amazing, sweetie,” way possible. By the end of the routine, they’re freestyling and laughing at each other's goofiness.

 

They continue dancing well into the next song and then the one after that.

  
  


“ _Ooooh, baby I love your stroke_ ,” Sienna sings to her reflection along with the Bluetooth speaker. “ _Cause you, cause you get me to where I'm go— cause you get me where I’m gooooing.”_

 

“How many times you gon’ play—“

 

“ _In a jury you'll get my vote_ ,” she continues, stopping mid-cornrow to shimmy with her hands planted on her hips. “ _Cause I believe, I believe you know just what you doing now._ ”

 

“Oh, so you can’t hear me?”

 

Sienna comes out the bathroom dancing and sliding around the room as she had outside. She knows she looks crazy with her hair half braided with clips and a rattail comb keeping her hair in sectionals, as well as her unicorn themed pajama set, but she doesn’t care how sideways Erik is looking at her.

 

But he’s not looking at her sideways. He’s actually very amused and happy to see her happy. He lays back in the bed and laughs at how goofy she is as she dances to her heart’s desire without a care in the world until the song ends.

 

He pats the space beside him, beckoning her. She obliges and plops beside him with her legs in his lap.

 

“You a lot better than from last night,” he notices.

 

“Yeah, I guess so.”

 

“You guess so,” he repeats with a scoff. “Your family cool peoples. We should come around more often.”

 

Sienna looks over at him and he’s focused in on surfing channels on the flat screen. “Yeah?” She plays with the ends of his dreads and leans over to kiss his cheek with a loud suction noise. “My mama and aunties was about ready to eat you up when her thot ass pulled that shit about fixing you a plate.”

 

“Yeah, light skin shorty had me fucked up.” He pulls a face and shakes his head in disbelief. “ _I can fix your plate if Sisi too tired,_ ” he repeats in a weak imitation of Sienna’s cousin. “Bitch, _what_ ? You _wish_ you was Sisi and you _wish_ you could fix my plate. And I ain’t like how them lil’ girls was looking at you when you and your cuzzos was dancing either. Can’t stand no hating-ass bitch.”

 

Sienna kisses him again, googly-eyed as she stares at him. “You look like you was ready to knock her ass out.”

 

“So did you. I don’t like nobody playing with mines.”

 

She cocks her head to the side. “You meant that shit you said about me being wifey?”

 

Erik side eyes her. “You stay asking dumb questions.”

 

“No, really!”

 

He twists his face up like the question annoys him.  “I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”  
  
“What about that time you called me baldhead?”  
  
His eyes roll back. “All this damn hair on your head and in the shower drain and you pressed about some dumb shit,” he grumbles.  
  
Sienna keeps kissing on him, making happy noises even if he’s not paying her any mind because she knows he likes the attention.

  
  
  
The next morning, Erik and Sienna stay for breakfast where Mrs. Vermillion begs them to stay another day, but Sienna insists they have to go. She kisses her family goodbye before promising to call and visit more often, then they’re on the road back to Oakland.  
  
“You ain’t never answer my question from last night,” she reminds him an hour into the drive.  
  
He squeezes her thigh and glances over at her bumping and bopping in the passenger’s seat.  
  
“I meant it.”  
  
Sienna’s heart flutters in her chest.  
  
He doesn’t even complain when she plays “Rock the Boat” another handful of times.  


  



End file.
